The Art of Seduction
by Grammarfreak16
Summary: Kid Blink tried to get her attention. He really did, but he was him, and she was, well, her, and that was that.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own Newsies.

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**The Art of Seduction**

I watched her every day from my selling spot, or at least I tried to. Sometimes it was hard to catch sight of her through the bodies crowding the street corner, but I managed. She was hard to miss, really, being the daughter of New York City's mayor and all. You'd think a girl as rich and high-up as her would have something better to do than hang around a dusty little flower shop. But there she was, every day at two in the afternoon, so exact you could set your clock to it.

I always sorta hoped she'd buy a pape from me. It'd be a big to do. She'd be looking at some roses or tulips, and then I'd catch her eye. I'd flash the headline at her, trying to act like I couldn't tell she was looking my way, but failing miserably. The crowd would part as she walked gracefully toward me, coins jingling in her outstretched hand. And as she reached my homely street corner and opened her mouth to ask for a paper, the fantasy would end. I couldn't imagine what her voice sounded like. I'd never actually heard her speak.

I suspected her voice was perfect, like the rest of her. She radiated perfect, no matter what. It could be a hundred degrees out in muggy August, and she'd stand there, smiling, without so much as a parasol. Always smiling; that was her. Sometimes with her father, sometimes with another man I could only sullenly identify as her fiancé, sometimes alone, but always smiling. Different smiles too. She wore a different smile for every occasion.

Now, I'd been watching this girl for damn near two years, and I considered myself a right expert on her smiles. There was one for "the flowers are particularly lovely today," which she would give as she held a daisy up for her father's inspection; there was one for "I've never seen the sky so blue before," usually accompanied by an up-tilted face and out-flung hands; and even one for "doesn't my new dress look stunning," to which the answer was always "of course."

I liked them all, and yet somehow, I knew something was missing. It could have been wishful thinking, or whatever Davey called it when one of the guys whistled suggestively at a passing lady. It could have been jealously or hope, but I always thought her smiles needed a bit more sparkle and shine. Like she was holding back that last little bit of herself. Just that last inch of happiness. But then again, my visual perception isn't so good.

I used to try every way possible to get her to notice me. Once, I faked a coughing fit hoping that illness added to my eye might draw a bit of sympathy, but she was with that other man, arms linked together as they walked, so she didn't see. I tried spicing up the headlines, unbuttoning a few extra buttons on my shirt, even attempted to force her over with sheer brain power. That last one, predictably, did not go so well. She never even saw me.

I don't know what was so special about that one day. One second I was scuffing at the dirty sidewalk with my boot toe, and the next, there she was, pushing and tripping through the crowd straight towards me, her eyes locked with mine.

"May I buy one?" She asked, dusting off her fine linen skirt.

My throat was dry, and I felt like I'd just gulped down a mouthful of sand, so I merely nodded. She rummaged through her pockets, then stopped and looked right at me again.

"If you don't mind my asking, what is your name?" She said, not dropping her gaze for a moment.

I swallowed thickly and replied, "Kid Blink."

Here was the girl of my dreams, finally right in front of me, and I could barely string together my own name. Smooth, Kid, Smooth.

"Kid Blink," She whispered, finally finding some change in her dress pocket, "It's just that I see you here every day, and I've always wanted to come over here and talk to you. It's sort of odd to see one person practically every day of your life, and never have spoken to him."

She placed a dime in my hand, and I wordlessly handed her a pape. I half-expected this all to be a heat-induced illusion, and I'd wake up to realize I'd been talking to a lamp pole. As I struggled with my suddenly broken vocal chords, she was already walking away, eyes scanning over the words on the front page.

"Wait!" I finally managed to call out, "I haven't given you change for this."

She paused, turned back around, and flashed me the most beautiful smile I'd ever seen.

"Keep it," She said, "Get out of this awful heat."

I felt suddenly brave. Taking two steps forward, I yelled out again, this time putting on my best seductive voice.

"Same time tomorrow?" I asked to her retreating figure.

I guess she didn't hear me over the roar of the street, because she kept walking. Maybe it was the comfortable weight of the dime in my palm, or the envious glances a couple of sweatshop boys were shooting me, but at that moment I felt like I was basking in the afterglow of the mayor's daughter's first real smile.

I made up my mind. Tomorrow, I'd be moving my selling spot to the other side of the street, right next to the little run down flower shop.

**Grammarfreak16**

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_I think I used the words "smile" and "always" too much. Also, it feels like the vocabulary in certain parts is too elevated for a newsboy, but, meh. I had a strong urge to write fanfiction, and I'd been playing around with the mayor's daughter angle in my head, so this is the result._

_Review if you have time, please. Let me know what worked and what didn't_.


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